The Alone Together Trilogy
by Cobalite
Summary: Contains three stories spanning more than a century telling of a C/A friendship. Includes: Horrid Dreams, Warning: Side Effects May Occur, and All Journeys Must End.


Authors Notes: There Were Roses is copy righted by Tommy Sands, and I got the lyrics from Foxes' Covert Archive. This story is the first part of the Alone Together trilogy.

Alone Together: Horrid Dreams

Angel patrolled every night, since Cordelia had yet to have a vision. He'd like to think the Powers were giving her time to recover rather than the more sinister thought that the death of the Oracles severed his links to the powers.

He had been staying with Wesley since the explosion, but his fastidiousness had driven even the stuffy British man to the brink in under a week. Angel had eventually gotten the hint, and asked Cordelia to crash on her couch. She got a strained look on her face, but said yes. It was almost as if she was hiding something, but who was he to talk about secrets.

He crept in the door just after two a.m. trying not to wake her. Surprisingly, there was a note on the coffee table in handwriting Angel didn't recognize. 

_Go to her._

"Go to who?" Angel didn't expect an answer, but he got one. A pen underlined the line. 

_Go to her._

"Dennis?" 

_Who else? She needs you._

"Cordy? Why would she need me?" To Angel, it sounded absurd.

_You are the only one who understands. _

"Being cryptic is my game, Dennis. This isn't getting us anywhere."

_Humans aren't meant to know the horrors their fellow man commit. You are the only one who knows, who can help her. _

"She still seeing it?"

_Her own private hell. Go to her. __GO TO HER!_

Seeing there was no way Dennis was going to let him be, Angel headed towards Cordelia's room. As he got closer, he could here soft sobbing. He almost knocked, but thought better of it. Angel slowly pushed the door open. "Cordy?"

She stopped crying, and looked up at him. "Did I wake you up?"

He came and sat by her bed. "I just got in. Dennis said you were still up."

"Yeah." Cordelia gave him a weak smile. "Haven't been sleeping too well lately."

"You wanna tell me about them?" Angel's voice was softer than normal, carrying compassion.

"About what?" Cordelia tries to hide her face in the dark, but she knows it's useless.

"Your dreams. It might help if you talk about them." Angel wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I don't think you would understand." Cordelia receive his patented Who are you kidding?' look, "Alright, so maybe you're the one person who can. They're awful, okay? I don't want to talk about them."

"You're going to have to. They aren't going to go away, Cordy. Never completely." Angel switched places from the chair to the side of the bed. "It's been two years, and I still get the nightmares at least once a month."

Cordelia pulled herself into sitting position. "But it was real for you. Hell is real, you didn't just see this stuff in your head. I know, I've seen the scars I bet you didn't even let Buffy look at."

"What happened to you is no less real than what happened to me. He showed you all the misery on earth. You're a nineteen year old girl who didn't watch the news because it hurt too much to care. No one deserves to see what you saw." Angel hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder.

Cordelia shut her eyes. Something occurred to her. "You've done this before. The nightmare alert thingy."

Angel gave a small half smile. "I had a little sister. We lived in English Occupied Galaway. Between the age of six and ten I think she slept through the night twice. My father never saw fit to get up in the night to go to her."

"How did you get her to go back to sleep?" Cordelia knew she needed sleep, but she wasn't getting any without help.

He looked embarrased. "I used to sing. Before I became a drunken lay about, I mean."

Cordelia looked intrigued. "Do you still know any of the songs?"

Angel wracked his brains. "Yeah, but I haven't sang them in over two hundred years, Cordy. I'm probably gonna sound like a frog."

Cordelia dismisses the comment. "It's something you never lose. Sing me something?"

The reluctant Angel knew already which song he was going to sing. As the notes drifted from across the ages, Cordelia heard for the first time his Irish accent. 

_My song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad _

_Nor for adding to the sorrows of this troubled northern lad, _

_But lately I've been thinking and it just won't leave my mind _

_I'll tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine. _

_Allan Bell from Banagh, he lived just across the fields, _

_A great man for the music and the dancing and the reels. _

_O'Malley came from South Armagh to court young Alice fair, _

_And we'd often meet on the Ryan Road and the laughter filled the air. _

_There were roses, roses _

_There were roses _

_And the tears of the people _

_Ran together _

_Though Allan, he was Protestant, and Sean was Catholic born, _

_It never made a difference for the friends, it was strong. _

_And sometimes in the evening when we heard the sound of drums _

_We said, "It won't divide us. We always will be one." _

_For the ground our fathers plowed in, the soil, it is the same, _

_And the places where we say our prayers have just got different names. _

_We talked about the friends who died, and we hoped there'd be no more. _

_It's little then we realized the tragedy in store. _

_It was on a Sunday morning when the awful news came round. _

_Another killing has been done just outside Newry Town. _

_We knew that Allan danced up there, we knew he liked the band. _

_When we heard that he was dead we just could not understand. _

_We gathered at the graveside on that cold and rainy day, _

_And the minster he closed his eyes and prayed for no revenge. _

_All all of us who knew him from along the Ryan Road, _

_We bowed our heads and said a prayer for the resting of his soul. _

Cordelia was beginning to drift off, and he stopped. Her eyelids closed, and assuming she was asleep, Angel rose to leave. "What was her name?"

"Kathy." It was ironic that it was to another dark haired girl with nightmares he again sang that song for.

"Did you kill her?" Cordelia was blunt and to the point.

"No." Angel closed his mind against the memories. "I left her alive, to see what she would do when she found our parents dead. Angelus always planned on going back for her, but he was distracted."

Cordelia sleepily matched up the time frame. "Spike and Drusilla." 

"Goodnight, Angel." Cordelia closed her eyes, safe in the knowledge she would no longer suffer the nightmares alone.

"Goodnight, little sister." 

Angel started to leave again, but she stopped him. "Angel, finish the song?"

Angel inhaled a breath he didn't need, and continued.

_Now fear, it filled the countryside. There was fear in every home _

_When a car of death came prowling round the lonely Ryan Road. _

_A Catholic would be killed tonight to even up the score. _

_"Oh, Christ! It's young O'Malley that they've taken from the door." _

_"Allan was my friend," he cried. He begged them with his fear, _

_But centuries of hatred have ears that cannot hear. _

_An eye for an eye was all that filled their minds _

_And another eye for another eye till everyone is blind. _

_So my song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad_

_Nor for adding to the sorrows of our troubled northern land,_

_But lately I've been thinking and it just won't leave my mind. _

_I'll tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine. _

_I don't know where the moral is or where this song should end, _

_But I wondered just how many wars are fought between good friends. _

_And those who give the orders are not the ones to die. _

_It's Bell and O'Malley and the likes of you and I. _

_There were roses, roses _

_There were roses_

Angel closed the door, and headed to the couch.

The End

Authors Notes: Not really sad, but not exactly a happy ending either. The second part of this trilogy takes place on Cordelia's 21st birthday, which is stated in Prodigal' as being May 22. Email me at [cobalite@yahoo.com][1].

Authors Notes: When ideas get into my head, they won't go away. Ideas often came to me in the middle of the night, and the resemblance between the girl who played Angel's younger sister and Cordelia struck a cord. That night, the image of Angel soothing Cordelia back to sleep would go away. So I wrote Horrid Dreams. I decided to make it a continued story, and designed a web page. Then, I forgot about both the finished story and the web page until I was purging my writing files. This story occurs May 22, the date stated in Prodigal as Cordelia's birthday. Assuming she was nineteen this May, this story occurs in 2002, on her twenty first birthday.

**Warning: Side Effects May Occur**

Cordelia lay sprawled on the couch, using Angel's chest as a pillow, reading the newest Anne Rice novel he was. "Has this woman even ever met a real vampire? I mean, I've heard the of old ones becoming more human, but this is just lunacy."

"She's met a real vampire. I think the woman enjoys taking risks. I rescued her a few months ago. She picked the wrong vampire to milk for information." Angel got his version of a smile on his face. "I helped her write one of her novels."

"Let me guess, Memnoch the Devil, right?" Cordelia reached up and flipped the page.

"You got it. Care to tell me why you ran Wesley out of here at five o'clock and then refused leave?" Angel put down the book, determined to get an answer.

Cordelia sat up, a slightly panicked look on her face. "You're imagining things, Angel. Really, nothing's wrong."

"You actually expect me to believe that?" Angel had his 'there is no escape' face on. 

"Angel, what is today?" Because if Angel didn't remember, she would stake him herself.

"May........22. Oh. We didn't forget your birthday, Cordy. I thought you made us swear after last years disaster, you never wanted another party." Angel was unsure what was wrong. "I did get you a gift."

"That's not it, Angel. It's not just my birthday, it's my twenty first birthday." Cordelia started to cry.

"Cordy, please don't do that. You know I hate it when you cry." Angel smoothed her hair. "I'm still not sure what's wrong."

Cordelia sniffled. "What did Doyle tell you about his manifestation?"

"He sneezed. That's when his life started going down hill." Angel wondered where this was going.

"How old was he, Angel?" Cordelia was starting to grind her teeth.

"Twenty one." The realization struck Angel like a brick. "Oh boy. Is that what's bothering you, you're afraid you might manifest?"

Cordelia grabbed Angel by the shoulders and shook him. "I had a vision, I am suffering from hay fever, and you act like this isn't a bad thing!"

"Stop shaking me." Angel pulled free. "You're talking to a man who can't eat dinner without vamping out, so you have nothing to complain about. Go get some allergy pills."

Cordelia took a few calming breaths. "Spoken like a true big brother. Sorry I attacked you."

"It's okay. Maybe I should give you this now." Angel handed her a slender, white box.

The clock struck seven. "Well, its official. I am now twenty one." Suddenly, Cordelia felt a sneeze on. Still carrying the box, she ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

"Cordelia. Cordelia, open the door. Come on, it can't be that bad." Angel grabbed a hairpin from her desk and started working on the lock.

"How would I know?" Cordelia's voice cracked a little. "It's not like you own a mirror."

"Open the box, Cordy. Happy birthday, I guess."

Cordelia slit the ribbon on the box with trembling hands. Inside, was a beautiful silver hand mirror. "It's gorgeous. I've been eyeing it for months."

"You only dropped a hint the size of an anvil." Angel popped the lock, and stepped in. "Well, it's an interesting look on you."

Cordelia ran her fingers over her face, staring into the mirror. "I look horrible."

Angel put on his game face, and lifted her chin so Cordelia was looking right at him. "Three years ago, you called my your brother." He wiped away a tear. "Think of us as a matched set."

Cordelia almost smiled. "I think Doyle's kiss should have come with a warning."

Angel led her back into the living room, and they sat back on the couch. "What kind of warning?"

Cordelia's face returned to normal. "The kind that says, Warning: Side Effects May Occur." 

The End

Authors Notes: This is something that refused to be denied. It mostly wrote itself. The only thing I got to add was my name. The third part of this trilogy takes place an indefinite time in the future, another one of my infamous on the grave tales. Email me at cobalite@yahoo.com.

Authors Notes: This is something that refused to be denied. It mostly wrote itself. The only thing I got to add was my name. The third part of this trilogy takes place an indefinite time in the future, another one of my infamous on the grave tales.. Email me at cobalite@yahoo.com.

Alone Together: All Journeys Must End

She was a stunning brunette, seemingly in her mid twenties. The girl walking beside her could be no more than fifteen. "This is one of the oldest section in the cemetery. Are you going to tell me why we're here?"

"I'm visiting someone. You can head over to the newer section and look for any new arrivals." Cordelia shooed her charge away.

"Chase, someday I'm going to pry your secrets out." Vanessa Winestaff, Vampire Slayer left her Watcher to the past, and headed to where her school mate had been buried this morning.

Cordelia watched her go, and went to a small semicircle of graves. "Hi everyone. Sorry I haven't been by in a while, but Vanessa is a handful. She reminds me of Buffy sometimes."

She opened the bag from the florist she carried with her, and pulled out a lavender lily. "I'll never understand how Angel convinced them to bury you in your leather pants, Faith, but it was appropriate. It just wasn't fair what happened to you."

Cordelia put the flower on the grave, and moved on. Faith had spent five years in jail, and the day after she was released, the building she was living in burned down. She had saved the life of the baby living next door, but after making her way out, Faith succumbed to smoke asphyxiation.

On the next grave, she placed a perfect yellow tulip. "Hi, Wes. I fulfilled my promise, I became a Watcher. I sincerely hope I've learned from your mistakes, and my Slayer doesn't try to kill me. You'd be amazed how much the council has changed over the years."

Some years before Angel had earned his redemption, Wesley found out he had developed a heart defect. He made her swear to fix the problems plaguing the Council, and work them out from within. He had a heart attack before the End Of Days even fell.

On the next grave, she put down a bottle of whiskey rather than a flower. "You're not even buried here, so I feel kind of silly, but they tore down the dock a long time ago. I still miss you so much, Doyle, but your parting gift still sucks. No offense. Brought you a new bottle, I hope you like it."

She cracked open the bottle of Jack Daniel's, and placed it in what was supposed to be a built in flower holder. In all the years since his passing, she had never forgotten Doyle, not even for a day.

On the fourth grave, she put a white rose. "I never thought I'd have to bury you too. As much as I cared about them, you were my real family. Your redemption came at such a great cost, Angel. You only had a year as a man before the End Of Days came. I don't think I ever saw Buffy as shocked as when you came barreling out of nowhere in broad daylight and pushed her out of the way."

Cordelia traced her fingers over the angel etched into the tombstone. "I can still see her cradling her head in her lap as you slowly bled out. She looked ready to kill when you called out for me. It took a long time for me to make her understand. Oh, but I wish you'd seen the First's face when she showed up carrying your battle axe, and murder on her mind."

"Hey, Chase, you ready to go?" Vanessa stood just a few feet away, covered in vampire dust.

Cordelia gave her a small smile. "Yeah. I was just saying goodbye. No offense, but you look like a fireplace." 

"You don't have to rub it in. You gonna let me in the car?" Vanessa tried to get some dust off her new jacket. "My parent's are going to murder me if this has to be dry cleaned."

"We'll think of something." Cordelia stood, and headed towards where they had parked.

"Who were they?" Vanessa snuck a look at the five grave plot, with one blank tombstone.

Cordelia didn't look back. "My family, my traveling companions whose journeys were cut short."

Vanessa ran her finger over one. "What language is this?"

"Gaelic. Now come on, we should go."

"What does it say?" Vanessa had always been curiouse.

"In the end, we were alone together." 

The End

   [1]: mailto:cobalite@yahoo.com



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